Oh, the Cunningness of Satan!

This week was our spring break and, in search of warmer weather and sunshine, we headed south to St. George.  However, a cold front moved in just before we headed out.  Although St. George found us in warmer weather than the 30 degree temperatures at home, it was still a little chilly compared to what we expected.  The pool was closed but we had a grand time hiking and exploring in Zion’s National Park.  Since we were so close, we decided to make the two hour drive to Las Vegas for the afternoon.  I had researched all the fun and free things to do with kids there; aquariums, lions, white tigers, light and water shows, techtronics…It all sounded great!  I had been to Las Vegas a handful of times growing up and always thought it was fun.

We spent hours walking the strip and looking for the amazing things on my list.  Problem was, all the things to see were conveniently located in the middle of each casino.  That meant wandering around through the smoky haze of one-armed bandits looking for the ‘kid-friendly’ attractions.  Traveling down the strip on foot with five kids made the casinos that had something we were interested in seem very far apart.  Still, I thought we were having an adventure.   I remember being impressed that no one standing on the street with pamphlets and pornography had even once tried to hand any to us.  I thought, “Look, they are being respectful of us because we are here as a family.  See, Las Vegas can be enjoyed by families like us without worry.”  I knew that some people thought that Vegas was a horrible place but I had always had fun there without drinking or gambling.  Besides, our family had a technique we learned from the Duggars to help our boys avoid things they shouldn’t see.  We had been doing this for a couple of years and the kids were pretty well conditioned.  Upon approaching something that we thought they didn’t need to see, like a girl that was dressed immodestly or the windows of the Victoria Secret store in the mall, we would say “Nike”.  That was code for the boys to look at their shoes until they were told the coast was clear.  If we came across something in Vegas, we could use this technique to avoid it.

At one point in our search for those cool things to see, I looked down at the ground to maneuver the stroller over a curb and was sickened to realize that the pornographic pamphlets were littering the ground by the dozens.  No one had to hand us any brochures because they knew that all we had to do was look down to see everything they had to offer.  Oh, the cunningness of Satan!  I was sickened to realize that, not only had I not protected my sons from temptation, I had paraded them straight through it!  In the pursuit of pleasure and adventure, I had discounted the enticings of the devil as something that could be withstood and even overlooked.  While this is an extreme example, I am afraid that there are other, more subtle ways in which the adversary successfully lulls us into a false sense of security when temptation and dangers are lurking.  It is in the books and movies and tv shows and music and youtube videos and facebook postings and text messages.  And, while we can’t shield our children from every evil and temptation in the world, I can be much more vigilant in standing firm and not falling to the tendency to overlook “just a few little things”.

We ended our spring break vacation with a trip to the St. George temple.  My two oldest children were able to go in and be baptized and confirmed for the dead by their dad.  How grateful I was for their worthiness and desire to be there!  How much I want to do all I can to foster that desire and to fill up their lives with opportunities that invite the Spirit and grow their testimonies! That is so much more important than glitter and glitz and neon signs and empty pleasures.   Satan may have walked away laughing that night in Las Vegas – I want to make sure he doesn’t get that chance again.

Everybody Sing a Little Working Song

Small HingesIf you have seen the movie ‘Enchanted’ you will remember the part where the pretty little princess is cleaning the apartment and all her little animal friends are happily helping her scrub the dishes with their tails and mop the floor with sponges tied onto their cute little feet. She is merrily singing her ‘happy working song’ and all the while making the house sparkle and shine. Yeah, that is pretty much totally NOT the way it works at my house. I am afraid I most often resemble the wicked stepmother. You know, the one that declares, “You can go to the ball IF you have your work done and IF you have a dress to wear!” Definitely one of the most challenging elements of homeschooling for me is being able to stay on top of the house cleaning. I used to be the mom who vacuumed her floors every day, both directions, strategically leaving no footprints behind. I also cleaned out and washed down my fridge every week and stripped all the beds to wash and line dry the sheets. Now, five kids and nine school years later, I try to calculate whether the cereal that my baby is eating from underneath the kitchen table is old enough to warrant me trying to get it away from him, or if I should just let him graze. My fridge gets washed out only when something spills. And the sheets... well, last week, after my daughters made everyone breakfast in bed, I got out my dustbuster to get rid of the crumbs. Now, in a perfect fairytale world, perhaps I would be able to say that I just realized that some things were more important than a spotless house and I had decided to let it go and just think no more about it. And that would, indeed, be a fairytale. Instead, a cluttered house still really bothers me. And, if you were to poll those who live here, their response to the question “what does Mom say most often?” would no doubt be, “let’s clean up”. So, in my quest for cleanliness amidst the chaos, I have tried countless tricks and techniques, programs and charts. Some worked well and some did not. I thought I would share a few of the more successful ones, in case they might work for your household too.

I think most moms are always looking for creative ways to change up the way we assign our kids chores, and I am no different. Sometimes it is good to just mix things up a little. The method that I keep returning to is the one that works the best for us. The supplies needed are simple: a bag of jumbo craft sticks, a different marker color for each child in your family, and a little cup or bucket or something to put the craft sticks in. I write the morning chores for each child down the middle of individual craft sticks, color coded per kid. Then, on one end of the stick I draw a smiley face and on the other, the first initial of their first name. So Emily will have five chore sticks done in green writing with an E at the top of each one; brush teeth, put away laundry, make bed, practice dance, say prayers. These chores must be completed before breakfast. As each chore is done, the stick is placed back in the bucket with the smiley face up and the initial down. All mom has to do is walk past the bucket to see who is finished with their chores and what still needs to be done. Anyone who does not have their chore sticks done before breakfast doesn’t get any screen time that afternoon.

We have done something similar for the daily cleaning up of the house chores. The house is divided into zones and each zone is written on a craft stick kept in a little bucket. There are also a couple of blank craft sticks in the bucket. In the late afternoon, before it is time to start dinner, (and any other time that the clutter becomes too much for Mom to take) the bucket is brought out and everyone (including Mom) takes turns picking a stick from the bucket until all the sticks are gone. Then everyone needs to tidy up the zones that are written on their sticks. So a child may get ‘empty dishwasher’ and ‘living room’ and ‘shoe duty’ (picking up all the shoes from the designated shoe area and putting them away in closets). I have also written out on index cards what needs to be done in each zone for it to be complete. For example, the living room card says:

1. Pick up and put away all toys, books, blankets, etc.

2. Put throw pillows nicely on the couches (“But, Mom, they are called throw pillows!”)

3. Vacuum.

4. Make sure piano and entertainment center are closed.

Now, granted, all my children won’t be able to clean to the same level of cleanliness. Certainly none of them vacuum without leaving footprints. But, since we change responsibilities each day, pretty much everything stays clean. What the five year old misses one day will be caught by the 14 year old the next (we hope). Two factors make this method successful; first, Mom is picking her chore sticks and doing her part right along with the children. I am a firm believer that the best way to teach your children to work is to work alongside them. Secondly, remember the blank craft sticks? That is where the element of chance is employed. You see, these blanks are ‘free’ sticks. So if everyone pulls out three chore sticks but one of mine is a blank, I only have two chores. And that, my friends, works like magic at our house!

One more quick description of a cleaning tactic that I use on occasion is the chore auction. While I have addressed the ‘getting ready for the day chores’ and the cleaning up of the daily clutter, we haven’t talked about the deep cleaning that needs to happen in a home. What about scrubbing the toilets and cleaning out the chicken coop and mopping the kitchen? Most of the time, the majority of that stuff gets done by me. However, on a particularly busy (or maybe lazy) week, I employ the chore auction. This opportunity usually comes around on a Saturday. I write a list of the bigger, deep cleaning tasks that need to be done that are not usually the children’s responsibility and beside each task is a dollar amount that the task is worth. For example, cleaning out and washing the fridge is worth $2, cleaning out the chicken coop earns you $5. The monetary amounts are small but, hey, my kids don’t need a lot of money at their ages and small amounts are still motivating to them. The rules are that they can only sign up for one chore at a time. Once that chore is completed and passes inspection, they can sign up for another. But, they don’t have to sign up for anything. Saturday chore auctions are totally optional. A chance for the kids to earn some extra money and for Mom to earn some extra time to do something she likes. If I did this every week, I don’t think they would be as eager to participate. But since I only do it every once in a while, they usually can’t wait to sign up.

My house is not perfect and chaos still reigns on most days, but these tricks are helping our household to run more smoothly and teaching my children responsibility and the ethic of work. Now if I could just figure out how to spend less time in the kitchen… What methods do you use to keep your home clean and organized when everyone is always home?

 

Share

I’m Home

I have been thinking a lot about home lately.  Not just these four walls in which I live but what a home means.  What makes a home?  What is it about the biological makeup of women that we feel such a desire to have and make a home?  To be always working, tidying, arranging, scrubbing, fixing, changing… And what is it that makes all of humankind long for home?  That pulls old and young alike to gather at “home” for special occasions, long weekends, reunions and the like? 

“Home for the Holidays”

“Home Sweet Home”

“All Roads Lead Home”

“I’ll Be Home for Christmas”

“Home is Where the Heart Is”

I think of the places that I have lived over the years.  They aren’t many and they aren’t far apart.  There are moments that stand out in my mind from each dwelling.  I remember beauty pageants enacted on our front steps by my sisters and I in the home I grew up in.  I remember a summer family project in which those front steps were replaced with a beautiful white front porch worthy of “Gone with the Wind”. 

I think of the little basement apartment in Logan, Utah.  The home where I became a wife.  The home with walls so thin we could hear the fighting (and later the making up!) of the landlords who shared the house.

I remember the little white county house that became our home after I secured my first teaching contract.  The home where I became a mom.  I remember the first time I bathed my own new baby in the kitchen sink of that home.  He was so wiggly and slippery.  And, when I dried him off, much of his hair came off in the towel!  And he smelled so scrumptious and yummy as I snuggled him in the fluffy towel with sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows and little soapy puddles on the floor. 

I remember our first home that came with a mortgage.  I insisted on painting it yellow upon moving in.  If I had my way, every house we ever lived in would be painted yellow.  I remember Mrs. Duncan, the little old lady who sold us her house and went shopping with me for carpet and paint.  That home was nestled in the middle of the best neighborhood ever.  Sunday afternoon walks took hours as we stopped in driveways and on front steps to chat with wonderful friends. I grew my first garden all by myself at that home and practiced canning to fill up my tiny pantry with one diaper-clad helper. 

And now, I sit in my home surrounded by five beautiful children and all the “stuff” that comes with such an entourage.  There are crumbs under the kitchen table.  Laundry is hanging to dry and overflowing from hampers, waiting to be folded.  There are dishes to be washed.  There is also laughter.  And hugs and kisses.  A family picture hangs framed on the wall and, under it, the words “Happy Hearts, Helping Hands”.  Admonition or recipe?

As I look at the clutter that makes up my home, I hear the words of a good friend in my ear, “It’s clean underneath”.  A mantra of sorts.  And I realize, as I look back on my memories of home over the years,   I don’t remember cleaning the toilets, sweeping the floors, washing the dishes, although I am sure that those things happened.  I am certain that I even did them.  Instead, I remember swimming pools, swingsets,  long walks, reading stories by the light of tiki torches on the back patio, naps in the sun, food and games with friends… I guess ‘clean underneath’ can be enough. 

Thinking of places that I have called home makes me wonder about the future.  What other homes will I decorate, rearrange, clean and care for?  What memories will be made there?

“When I leave this frail existence, when I lay this mortal by, Father, Mother, may I greet you, in your royal courts on high?”  What house am I earning there?  And can one have red walls in a heavenly mansion?  Is such a bold, unforgiving color allowed?  And do I have to clean my toilets in heaven, because really, who would it be heaven for if that person had to clean toilets? 

I sincerely hope that having my home and my life “clean underneath” will be enough to buy me a mansion there.  With red walls.  Because that is a homecoming I am really looking forward to. 

But I have a few more houses to paint yellow first.

 

You can leave your thoughts, comments or suggestions here on my feedback page. Thanks!

- Kresta

Share

Christmas is for Brats...

I was thinking about Christmas this morning. About seemingly silly traditions that accompany this holiday. Moreover, I was thinking that it was wrong to celebrate in some of the ways we do. It was unfair.


I was trying to sort in my head all the gifts that still needed to be made and purchased and weighing the things I still needed to get for my kids against the mountains of presents they would already be receiving. I needed to make sure I got them something they would like, something they wanted, something someone else wasn't already giving them. And hopefully something that they would love and be interested in for more than a week.

That led to thoughts of what to get the little cousins whose names we have. This is trickier because we don't see them often and aren't always sure what they would like or what they already have. Then there are gifts for friends and neighbors and grandpa and the sister who has everything and teachers and mailmen...I thought, "this is ridiculous! This long list of people that we buy for whether or not they deserve a gift, whether or not it will be appreciated and used and loved, whether or not it is something that they want."

My kids know that they will be getting gifts for Christmas -- lots of gifts. No matter how many times in the month of December I may say, "you had better be good or Santa won't bring you any presents." Or my latest threat, "If you don't start picking up your stuff I am going to pick it up for you and wrap it up for your Christmas!" No, my kids know that, come Christmas morning there will be a pile of presents carefully chosen just for them. And the giving doesn't stop there. They will open gifts at home, at Grandma's later that morning, at Grandpa's that afternoon and the gifting will continue into the next week as we travel to the other grandparents' house for a Christmas party there.

All these gifts, regardless of their deserving them.

And then a thought stopped me in my tracks.

Isn't that exactly what Christmas is all about? It is a gift of a Savior of the world. A gift of a perfect example of a perfect life. A gift of atonement and redemption and resurrection and eternal life. And it is all given freely and lovingly to every person in the whole world. Even brats like me. No one deserves it. Few acknowledge it and none of us are grateful enough for it. Too many times I don't even give it much thought. Yet, it is the perfect gift delivered with pure love and certainly with hopes and prayers of our using it. No gift has ever had a higher price, a greater degree of agony, or a brighter promise of hope.

Today I thank heaven that Christmas is for brats.

 

You can leave your thoughts, comments or suggestions here on my feedback page. Thanks!

- Kresta

Share

Where Were You?

I was sitting in my fifth grade classroom, on top of my desk, when I watched the Challenger explode in a ball of smoke and flame just minutes after takeoff from Cape Canaveral.  My teacher had wheeled a television into the classroom so that our impressionable young minds could see the historic event as the first woman teacher went into space.  No one could have predicted the indelible mark that such an event would have on those of us in that classroom.  We would remember it forever. 

Sitting in my grandparents’ family room, I was captivated by a white Ford Bronco leading a motorcade of police on a chase along the freeways of Los Angeles.  The weeks that followed would make Kato Kaelin, Mark Fuhrman, and Robert Shapiro household names.  OJ Simpson would no longer be best known for his brilliant football career. 

I got misty-eyed when I watched Dan Jansen finally win his gold in Lillehammer, amidst personal tragedy, and cried with gymnast Kerri Strug as Coach Bela Karolyi carried her off the mat after clinching a gold medal for her team by competing on a badly hurt ankle in Atlanta in 1996.

Just months ago, my four children and I awakened at 2:00 in the morning and snuggled together on the couch to see the Royal Wedding televised live from across the pond in London.  We watched intrigued by the pomp and circumstance with which the event was carried out, learned about the long-standing traditions engrained in the actions of English royalty, laughed together at silly hats and ohhhed at the beauty and elegance of Kate Middleton.

Some memories just stay with us.  And they bind us together in time, friends and strangers alike.  Its funny how the details of certain days are etched so clearly in my mind; what I was wearing, where I was, what the weather was like, who I was with.  A snapshot forever frozen in time as if it had just happened yesterday. 

I was not around for the assassination of JFK.  I didn’t live through a world war or the Great Depression.  I didn’t watch the first man walk on the moon.  I have never known war on American soil or had to ration milk and gasoline.  Sure, I have been aware of other “conflicts” that our country has been involved in during my lifetime but they were far away and personally affected no one that I knew.  I do have one memory, though, that probably unites me with each of you. 

It was one of those early fall mornings when the air is just starting to bring a chill.  I had sent my husband out the door to work.  My three year old was watching Calliou on tv and the baby was playing on a blanket on the floor.  I had just gotten out of the shower and was towel-drying my hair when the ruckus started in the next room.  Running in to investigate, I was met with a sight that left me puzzled at best.  My toddler was upset because his show had disappeared, to be replaced with an image of the Twin Towers in New York and the voice of a frantic Peter Jennings.  At first I didn’t understand what was happening; it seemed like a scene from a movie and I was reminded of H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds.  As the macabre story unfolded on the screen over the next few hours and cameras cut from the smoking World Trade Center to a gaping hole in the Pentagon to a burning plane in a Pennsylvania field and back to the toppling Twin Towers, my blood ran cold and fear set up camp in my heart.  I scooped my eight-month-old daughter to my chest, sank to the floor and wondered at the world my babies would grow up in.  America was changed forever on that day.  We all were. 

Living in Idaho, I wasn’t concerned for my immediate safety.  The view outside my window was a calm lovely day with a brilliant blue sky.  I remember exactly how that sky looked.  But I knew where that horror was taking place.  I had visited New York; I had walked those very streets now filled with distraught, hurting people covered in the ash and debris of shattered security.  This terror wasn’t happening in a far-off land but in my own America and in places I had been.  I spent the entire day in my robe in that room, watching that story unfold as my hair dried and I cried. 

The following weeks and months would introduce new vocabulary into the daily conversations of Americans everywhere.  Words like Al Qaida, Kabul, Afghanistan, Taliban and I.E.D were heard everywhere. 

And then the months turned into years.

Today, the events of 9/11 mean that the average American has to plan extra time at the airport to go through security.  That could be the only noticeable difference.   Those two towers look oddly out of place in my 1995 photos of the New York skyline.
       
My oldest son has no recollection of that horrible day in front of the tv.   But I don’t want it that way. 

While it is true that I don’t want my son forever traumatized by the disturbing images of airplanes crashing into buildings, terrified individuals jumping out of office windows to their deaths, and panicked people running through the streets screaming and crying inconsolably, I also don’t ever want him to forget. 

With approximately 1,000 World War II veterans dying every day in this country and the ease and abundance that we enjoy here, I want my children to know that it wasn’t always this way.   I want them to appreciate the sacrifices made by others for them to have their lives of peace and plenty in this great land of America.  I want them to respect and feel a reverence for every police officer, fireman and soldier that they see.

I encourage you to take advantage of Patriots Day (9/11), Constitution Day (9/17) and Veterans Day (11/11) to remember.  And to teach those too young to remember.  After all, those historic events bind us all together as Americans.  Where were you?

 

You can leave your thoughts, comments or suggestions here on my feedback page. Thanks!

- Kresta

Share

Back to School Days

I get nostalgic and a little sad this time of year. I think about all my back to school memories; riding the big yellow bus, the butterflies in my stomach on the first day, insisting on wearing my brand new sweater no matter how sweltering the August afternoon would be, seeing friends, meeting new teachers, the smell of new notebooks and pencils. I think back on these things with general fondness, and yet they are memories that my children don't have.

No, my children go to the same room for school every year and see the same teacher there. And it is the same teacher that they just saw at the breakfast table that morning. There is no yellow bus (although Noah did insist on going out the front door and coming in the back door that opens into the schoolroom on the first day this year). No one cares what they are wearing, only that they have changed out of their pajamas. There is no picking of desks or choosing of teams at recess.

And sometimes I wonder if that is a bad thing.

I wonder if I am making the right decision for my children in their education. I wonder if they are happy or if they just don't know any different.

And I worry...

But then I think of that dear man clad in brown that delivers our packages on our own "Christmas in July".

I think of the excitement and the chaos and the smiles and the smell of newness as we open box after box after box and arrange crisp new workbooks on our shelves.

I think of the priviledge I have of being the one to teach my children and of all the things we learn together.

And I know it is the right thing for us. Even if I don't get to wear my new sweater.

You can leave your thoughts, comments or suggestions here on my feedback page. Thanks!

- Kresta

Share

I’m So Glad When Daddy Comes Home

This is a song I sing a lot.  As I spend the entire day every day with our five children, sometimes going days without ever leaving our property, I always look forward to Daddy walking in the door.  At times, I anticipate the moment so I can hand off a fussy baby, other times so I can relate some funny or insightful comment that one of the kids made that day.  Sometimes I look forward to his homecoming because I have issued an earlier “just-you-wait-until-your- father-gets-home” warning and other times I am just relieved to have another adult home so I can use the bathroom!  Whatever the reason, Daddy’s homecoming each evening is always a much-anticipated event.  And, if your house is anything like mine, time spent with Daddy at home always seems short.  The Daddy that lives at our house is a busy marketing associate who works hard to provide for us; he is a volunteer firefighter who is always on call to rush to the aid of those who need him; and, if that is not enough, he is the young men’s president, responsible for all the boys ages 12 to 18 in our ward. 

Our Daddy is a very busy man and most of the responsibility for teaching the children falls upon me as the mother.  The Proclamation on the Family states that “by divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families.  Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children ... In these sacred responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners.”   I have found myself struggling through the years to work out ways to include my husband in the education of our children and in other responsibilities at home.  Three practices have stuck and have really made a positive impact as we strive to support one another as our children learn at home.  Regular father’s interviews, dinnertime discussions about the learning of the day, and ‘dad homework’ allow Daddy to keep abreast of what the children are learning and also serve as ways that Daddy can support me in my role both as mother and as teacher. 

Father’s interviews happen the first Sunday of each month at our house.  To be honest, I don’t always know a lot of what is discussed at those meetings but I know that each of our children is called into Dad’s office for some one-on-one talks.  I know that they talk about what they are learning in their schoolwork and about other things.  The message this sends to the children is clear.  ‘Dad loves me, is concerned for me, and is interested in what I am doing.  I am important enough to him for him to schedule time for me on a regular basis.’  It also establishes and reinforces communication.  The kids grow up spending regular time talking to their Daddy alone, which hopefully will keep the lines of communication open for them as they grow older.  Also, these regular appointments help to keep Dad in the loop.  He is aware of what is going on and can back Mom up when necessary.

Another tool that we use to involve Dad in the teaching/learning at home is through our dinner discussions.  Often Daddy will ask, as we sit around the supper table together, “what did you learn in school today?”  As each child takes their turn relating something from their studies, Dad is offered insight into their learning and the day’s lessons are reinforced in the children’s minds as they reiterate what they studied.  Listening in on this conversation can help me, too, to know what my children are understanding and what facts they may need to review.  My favorite story from these dinnertime discussions happened when a preschooler told Daddy about the “giant salamis that are taller than our house and can destroy whole cities!”  An older sibling had learned about tsunamis in science that day and this little guy was very interested as he overheard the lesson!   

The third practice that we have found helpful in our home is to save a small part of the day’s lesson for Daddy to teach or review in the evening.  At our house, that is often math as that is definitely not my forte.  Our older children need Dad’s help in understanding a math concept on a regular basis.  However, Daddy also listens to the younger children read and that creates priceless time for them to cuddle on his lap as he praises them for their progress.  It is surprising how easy it is to find a learning task that Daddy can help with that will only take 10 to 15 minutes after dinner.  In this way, he is able to participate in both the responsibility and the reward of teaching his children.  And, let’s face it, sometimes the children just need to have something explained to them by someone else for it to stick. 

Even though I am primarily responsible for the academic learning in our home, my husband is still the head of the house.  He, as a priesthood holder, is the leader in our home and an important teacher in the lives of our children.  He is the one who leads us in family scripture study and who presides over family home evening.  I am so grateful for the hard work that my husband does and all the time he spends away from home so that I can have the blessing of staying at home and teaching and nurturing our children.  While there are the occasional days that I may fantasize about trading places with him for a few hours, I feel like I have such a privilege in watching my children learn and grow every step of the way.  I want to share that joy and opportunity with him whenever I can.  Yes, I’m so glad when Daddy comes home!

 

You can leave your thoughts, comments or suggestions here on my feedback page. Thanks!

- Kresta

Share

Failure to Thrive

It has been a rough couple of months at our house. We brought home a perfect and healthy baby boy and rejoiced in having him as part of our family. However, we were having some difficulties with baby number five. He was jaundiced and his billirubin levels continued to rise despite spending a week plugged in to the wall on a phototherapy light. He cried all the time and would not sleep without being held. Of course, everyone had a solution for us. Sleep him on a slant; put a ticking clock in his crib; feed him some sugar water; don’t eat anything with gluten; stay away from lactose; let him cry it out. All this advice, while offered by well-meaning friends and relatives, was not working. Finally, after weeks of crying, both mother and baby, we went back to the doctor. Upon weighing him, we discovered that this five week old baby had not gained a single ounce since birth. We were sent immediately to the hospital for some tests. The diagnosis on the lab order sheet read “failure to thrive”. I sobbed all the way to the hospital. I felt that I had completely failed my tiny little son.

As spring arrives, I reflect back on the last year of school and evaluate our progress. Are my children thriving? Is the curriculum I am using still meeting their educational needs? Generally, as we homeschool, we have no AYP to meet, no committee to write up our standards and benchmarks and convert those into learning goals for our classrooms. Many homeschooled students do not participate in standardized testing to measure their progress against other students across the nation. How do we know, then, that our students are thriving? Personally, I ask myself if my children are enjoying learning. Beyond the love of learning that I want to instill in them, there are a few other things that are important. Are they “becoming acquainted with all good books, and with languages, tongues and people” (D&C 90:15)? A huge responsibility rests upon our shoulders as the educators of our own children in a community where there may often be little accountability to anyone other than God and His spirits that we instruct. Are we instructing them “more perfectly in theory, in principle, in doctrine…of things both in heaven and in the earth, and under the earth; things which have been, things which are, things which must shortly come to pass; things which are at home, things which are abroad; the wars and the perplexities of the nations, and the judgments which are on the land; and a knowledge also of countries and of kingdoms” that they may be prepared in all things (D&C 88:77-83)?

Aside from thriving academically, I want to also make sure that my children are thriving in other areas of their lives. Not necessarily thriving in the way the world might measure my success as an educator or their adaptation into the world around them. Rather, I wish for my children a success that makes them very different from the world. For example, socially my children are very behind their peers as the world might gauge their social adaptation. My kids own no iPods or smartphones. We don’t have an x-box or a PSP. They aren’t up on the latest movies and they don’t know the words to a single top 40 song. My kids are reading Little House on the Prairie, Chronicles of Narnia and Anne of Green Gables. In our house, a world still exists where Laura looks up to her Pa, Gilbert Blythe is the kind of guy girls dream of marrying (marrying!) and good bands together to rid the world of evil. There is not a vampire book among them. And I am thankful for that.

My teenage son doesn’t spend his afternoons trying to get to the next level in the latest multi-player virtual game, but he did teach his little brother how to ride his bike. Instead of practicing applying makeup in her bedroom mirror, my ten-year-old daughter is loving learning how to change her baby brother’s diaper and helping her little sister read. In a world that is forcing children to grow up way too fast, I am happy to hang on to every minute of snuggling in the sun for read-aloud time, even if the teenager has read the book five times already. I smile to myself as I listen to my two preschool children playing with action figures in the other room as the one toy says to the other, “You will be sorry that your father joined Hitler’s team!” I make myself remain patient and not be bugged when my daughter follows right at my heels all day, wanting to be a part of everything I am doing, whether it is cooking dinner, bathing the baby or sorting the mail. I am glad that it is me that she is following and wanting to be like and learning from. And I strengthen my resolve to be a better person because I know she is watching.

Spiritually, I want my children to thrive as they are “nourished from the good word of God.” So we contrast Hitler and what he was trying to do that led to World War II with the people living after Christ visited the Americas when “there was not any manner of –ites” among them. We write comparison/contrast essays about Abinadi and Martin Luther. We talk about the code of chivalry that the knights kept in medieval times and about what Christ taught in the Beatitudes.

I think of the opposite or antithesis of that diagnosis of “failure to thrive” and I think of abundance. A child fails to thrive because something vital and necessary is lacking in that child’s daily life. So as I evaluate the school experience of the past year, and years before, I look at the abundance that is being offered to my students. What I want my children to know, more importantly that anything else that they can be taught, is who they are and that they are loved – not because they are part of the “in” crowd or because they have the right label on their jeans, but because they are sons and daughters, literal spirit children, of the God of heaven and earth. Because of that, they have enormous potential and an unlimited inheritance. And they are here on this earth to learn all that they can to be ready to become heirs to that – an abundance that they cannot comprehend. It is through teaching and learning with my children that I feel abundance in my own life. An abundance of responsibility but also an abundance of joy.

As for my littlest guy? His problems stemmed from a lack of nourishment. For some reason, baby number five was just not getting enough to eat from breastfeeding. Like homeschooling, that can be a difficult thing to measure. It had always worked before. But you probably know from homeschooling that what has worked great for one child will not always be what another child needs. Also like homeschooling, everyone had some advice for me. There were lots of tears and lots of fervent prayers (just like homeschool). Thankfully, it was something that was able to be corrected. He was put on a high-calorie formula every two hours and, in only a weekend, he gained a whole pound! Now he is thriving in an abundance of love AND nourishment.

You can leave your thoughts, comments or suggestions here on my feedback page. Thanks!

- Kresta

Share

A Song That Never Ends...

Each of my children have gone through a phase of loving to sing this song, particularly on long car trips; “This is the song that never ends, it just goes on and on my friends.  Somebody started singing it not knowing what it was and now they keep on singing it forever just because this is the song that never ends…” Repeated ad nauseam.  The problem is that they take so long to tire of it.  Seriously, they could just keep going forever.  And it seems like they do! 

My sisters and I love to quote from old movies like Anne of Green Gables or Parent Trap whenever we find an occasion that warrants a quote.  We can find words from a movie we have seen a dozen times to fit almost any situation.  The exchange student from Spain that spent a year with us was constantly in awe of the way we could find the perfect words or song to match anything that was happening and we all knew what the others were talking about.

My very favorite high school English teacher helped her advanced placement class to memorize the prologue to the Canterbury Tales in Middle English.  No one could even understand the words we were saying, much less their meaning, but it sounded so cool and I can still quote the entire poem segment today, nearly twenty years later.

Growing up there was this particularly annoying car commercial for a used car lot named Latham Motors.  The man doing the commercial was so loud and obnoxious that everyone hated those ads.  However, ask anyone who lived in my community in the late 80’s to tell you the phone number of Latham Motors and I promise you that they can.  733-5776.  “We’ll see you here, today!” 

Our days are constantly filled with stick-in-your-head information.  Phone numbers, song lyrics, jokes, rhymes and jingles.  Most of it is just stuff – fluffy facts and trivia that take up space in our brains.  Some of it is offensive to our spirits and to who we are as children of God.  Hopefully some of it is useful information we learn as we school together – “In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue”,  “when two vowels go walking the first one does the talking and usually says its name”, “Roy G. Biv”…

As parents and full-time teachers of our children, we have the opportunity to choose some of this information that goes into the heads of our children.  We can’t control all they hear and repeat.  Maybe you have a sister like mine that taught my children that song that never ends.  Your children probably have Sunday school teachers, piano teachers and scout leaders who contribute to the information being stored in their brains.  In a school setting it is easy to think of useful and meaningful facts that children must learn in a way that they will not forget, like multiplication tables for instance.  But what other information could we be memorizing together to prepare our children for the world and for life?

I remember as a child memorizing the names of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles one night with my family.  “Hunter, Packer, Ashton, Perry, Faust, Haight, Maxwell, Nelson, Oaks, Ballard, Wirthlin, Scott.”  Obviously that was quite a while ago, as many of those men are no longer living.  And yet I can still rattle it off without a glitch.  We tried the same thing in our family the other day.  My husband came up with a rather weird mnemonic method of memorizing the current Quorum of the Twelve. 

1 gun “what are you packing?” Packer
2 shoe “Sperry” Perry
3 tree “leaves on a tree rustle” Russell M. Nelson

We all laughed at first and some of his clues were quite a stretch, but by the end of the night, every one of us had mastered the task.  What’s better is that a week later we can still remember it with no trouble. 

I grew up knowing the Apostles.  I knew their full names, recognized their faces and their voices.  I listened to their voices on cassette tapes in my room as I went to bed at night.  I had the privilege of sitting at their feet every six months and watching them deliver their messages to us at General Conference.  I knew what many of them had done for a living.  I listened to stories of their growing up years.  I loved these men and I knew that they loved Jesus Christ. 

In a world where heroes fall from grace every day, where values like integrity and honesty are flippantly laid aside and Christ’s name is revered by seemingly few, where a few offensive lyrics are so cunningly tied to a catchy tune, how important it is to fill our minds and our hearts with the good, the uplifting, the “un-trivial”.  I want my children’s minds to be full to the brim with Shakespeare and the periodic table and history time lines and, even more importantly, with scripture and the young women values and the scout oath and the names of the apostles.  I want those things to become even more familiar to them than the phone number of the used car lot was to me so that they can recall them clearly “ages and ages hence.”  More than being able to recite the names of the apostles, I want them to know them – the men called as Special Witnesses of Jesus Christ – I want them to know their names, their faces, their hearts and their messages.  As my children feel of the testimonies of these great men, I know they will never tire of hearing their voices.

You can leave your thoughts, comments or suggestions here on my feedback page. Thanks!

- Kresta

Share

Starting The Year Out Right...

We have a tradition in our family of beginning January with an introduction of a family theme for the year.  This was something I started several years ago as a way, honestly, to make family home evenings easier to plan.  I thought a cohesive theme to focus on throughout the year would make transitions through gospel topics go more smoothly and would help my children see a connection between various principles laws, both of nature and of God.

The theme for 2011 comes from a simple little song found in the Children’s Songbook:  “Kindness Begins With Me.”  This year I really want to make my home a haven; a place of peace and safety where those who spend time here feel loved and appreciated and needed.  As my older children are nearing their teenage years, I want to make sure that I keep the lines of communication open between us so that they feel safe in talking with me and with each other.  I want my children to be able to teach each other lessons that they have learned, both in their scholastic studies and in the school of life.  Beyond the walls of our home, I want my children to learn tolerance of others.  To see the good in those around them and to keep people’s names safe in our family and our home by not speaking ill of them or disrespecting them.  I want my family to understand the truth of the statement that people will remember the way you make them feel.

A pretty big challenge, huh?  Especially when, what I was noticing instead in my home were snarky comments, selfish gestures and an attitude of “why should I do anything for you that you can do for yourself?”   Some of that can probably be chalked up to the post-holidays slump we all tend to find ourselves in and the fact that this momma is “great with child” and not creating many adventures for her brood.  But I think it is also a result of becoming so accustomed to one another and to always being together that we begin to discount each other’s feelings and forget the power that lies in just being kind.

The theme was unveiled at a family home evening in early January.  My family was treated to a fancy candlelight dinner all prepared and assembled by yours truly.  I went all out, making individual meatloafs all by myself for the first time (there is just something about squishing raw meat between one’s fingers that I struggle with).  The table was laid with a tablecloth, linen napkins, even fancy goblets full of sparkling cider.  Everyone got to enjoy an elegant three course meal better than anything we have even done for company, all while being waited on by mom. 

After dinner came the lesson of kindness – what it means, who was the perfect example of it, how we can have more of it in our lives.  Then we placed every family members’ name in a hat and drew names for our “Secret Servers” project.  The name that we drew was the person we were supposed to serve, in secret, for the next week.  The big reveal would happen at the following family night and then we would choose names again.  This became our focus for the month of January.  I tried to emphasize that the best way to remain anonymous was to serve every family member equally so everyone would think that you were their server!  What a fun month we had!  I would go to my room at night to find my bed turned down and my pajamas laid out.  I would come out of the bathroom in the morning to find my bed already made.  Family members helped others to write notes so that their handwriting wouldn’t give them away.  Skills of stealth were perfected as little ones hurried to do the chores of a sibling without getting caught.  The entire garage was swept out by a determined little six year old wielding a giant push broom.  A four year old reported that what she had done to serve her daddy was “snuggle with him in his own bed for the whole night!” 

At the conclusion of our four week project, everyone was kind of sad to not be drawing names again.  However, we are moving on to phase two of the “Kindness Begins With Me” campaign.  Our mission for the month is to perform a random act of kindness every day for someone who does not live in our home – even for someone we don’t know.  My ten year old really wants to go paint over some of the grafitti in our town.  My almost-teenage son thinks that would be much more fun if we were to sneak out in the middle of the night to do it.  I am not sure I am up for that… but I am so excited for the huge strength of character that can be built upon the small hinge of kindness.  The world could certainly use more of that.

 

You can leave your thoughts, comments or suggestions here on my feedback page. Thanks!

- Kresta

Share